


The Price of a Glitch

by PAW_07



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Confessions, Damaged Programming, Fluff and Angst, Memory Loss, Mental Breakdown, Soundwave is a Bad Ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAW_07/pseuds/PAW_07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russel, being young, makes a simple assumption based on the prisoners he has seen. “Fixit, I mean looking at all the pods and everything, I was wondering … if maybe … all minicons are bad?” Fixit struggles for an answer, guilt and a glitch ticking away in the back of his CPU. </p><p>Memories can't help but surface, but is he ready to face them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Question

I offer my eyes, youthful and bright.

They know not your prejudices or your plight.

Thus with my youthful ignorance I give a brief gift,

A moment of closure in your heart’s deep rifts.

…

Russel sat there, frowning as he watched Drift call his minicons back to him, the two small bots transforming and settling into place. He liked the two little bots. They were player-friendly. If Drift left them out of his sight for more than a moment that is. He was sometimes a hard-aft.

Not that he would ever tell Bee that he picked that word up.

He understood, to a part, why the mech was hard on them. Something about honor of a warrior or something, but there seemed to be something more to it than that. It had only been mentioned slightly in passing, but he had caught on regardless. Apparently, the two minicons needed to earn their forgiveness. For what, Russel could only guess, but it seemed criminal in nature.

Yet, as more and more minicons started to adorn the corners of the junkyard, frozen like statues behind glass, a thought crept into the young human’s mind. Were all minicons malevolent in nature? Fixit did have more than enough weaponry hidden on his person to take out a military base and generally mechs didn't have weapons for nothing.

And what of all the beast-formers? Were they the same? Grimlock seemed to have an alacrity towards violence.

Russel knew that he shouldn’t jump to conclusions so easily, he didn’t know much about Cybertron, but he hadn’t seen one vehicle-former like Bee or the others adorn those pods. Personally, right now he had a feeling that model-type was what led to many of those mechs incarceration and if that was so...

Did Decepticons have a reason for being inherently evil?

Giving Bee a look over his shoulder as the Autobot headed out for patrol, the human ran up to the Alchemor’s control deck. He wanted for this just to be between Fixit and him. Bee was great, but there were whispers about him being active in the war. He didn’t want the mech to interfere with his ingrained prejudices. So, a second later, the human was stalling before the orange bot panting from the uphill run.

Fixit, as usual, was busy typing away at one thing or another, giving the young human an affable nod before stating, “Hello, Russel. How has your morning been?”

Russel smiled at the warm greeting. That was one thing he really liked about Fixit. He always seemed kind, but as time dragged on he felt that some of the rest of the Autobots didn’t reciprocate the sentiment. It was like they were taking advantage of Fixit sometimes. Yeah, he was kind of glitched and maybe a little bit of a coward, but the others' treatment was really becoming noticeable. Did they do it because minicons were instinctively criminal? Was there a reason Fixit had been left alone with his many prisoners? Was his solitude a punishment to rectify his failings like it was with Slipstream and Jetfire?

Swallowing his misgivings, he wrangled his hands together and asked in almost a meek manner, “Hey Fixit, can I ask you something?”

Fixit, catching onto the boy’s downtrodden tone, immediately stalled in his work and turned fully to his human friend. “Sure, Russel. Is something wrong?”

Smiling,the minicon’s glitch seeming absent this morning, he rubbed his head and asked softly, “Well, I just wanted to ask you a question about … well, minicons and stuff?”

Optics shuttering in confusion for a moment, the little bot nodded, “Of course, I don’t mind.”

Frowning, kicking the floor with his shoes, feeling immoral for even asking something so hurtful of Fixit, the human’s curiosity won out. “Fixit, I mean looking at all the pods and everything, I was wondering … if maybe … all minicons are bad?”

Fixit's vents stalled and stuttered in surprise before his CPU seemed to catch up with him. He knew that Russel was little more than a newspark, especially by Cybertronain standards, but for such a misconception to even take root in that young mind … he felt somewhat responsible. Had he said something wrong?

“Russel, Russel. No. That’s not plight-might-RIGHT!” he stuttered, trying not to glitch out. “Why would you even think that? Was it something I said? I-I haven’t been cruel to you unknowingly somehow, have I? Is it a human thing? Denny promised to tell me about cultural taboos. Did I miss one?”

Blinking, shaking his head, the human rushed to say, “No, no, no! You didn’t do anything wrong. I just … its just …”

Russel waved his hand towards the multitude of stasis units.

Oh. _Ohhhh_.

Realization hit Fixit like a brick wall.

“Why are so many minicons on the Alchemor? And not just that, even Slipstream and Jetfire were once criminals. Also, I mean, the other Autobots don’t seem to treat you right … like you did something wrong as well. Like, being the warden all alone was a punishment,” blurted out the human. He knew he was missing something, somewhere, but that was why he was asking after all.

Servos coming together, Fixit immediately looked away. What Russel had said was, for the most part, _true_. Every last bit of it was pretty much true, especially now that he thought about it. Even the part about Team Bee not treating him right, but he was too afraid to say anything. He was too afraid he would be considered irrelevant, _trash_.

He didn’t want to be thrown away … not again.

Russel immediately felt bad as the mech drew away, especially when Fixit reversed slightly and turned his back to him.

“I-I’m sorry,” said the human, trying to placate Fixit. “I take it all back. I didn’t mean to say any of that.”

“No ...,” said Fixit softly, his voice barely a timid whisper. “Its … true, Russel. You don’t have to take it back,”

Russel, nearly tripping over his own shoes, stalled, his hand just above touching the minicon’s armor. “What?”

Shoulder plates sagging, Fixit looked up and Russel, voice still soft yet penetrating in the silence of the junkyard. “Minicons, animalformers, warbuilds … a lot of them, _us_ , went bad at the end of the golden age. Not because we were inherently evil or anything, but I suppose we fell out of favor. We fell into the obsolete mass-crash- _class_. We were either outdated, _glitched_ , a sympathizer, too vocal about classes or our skills were minuscule in comparison to our fuel intake. There were other things too, but as for the minicons … everyone still believed that minicon sparks originate from Unicron. That we are fake sparks … that we are merely _tools_. Drones if you will.”

The bitterness in Fixit’s tone just seemed … wrong.

And so there was another moment of silence, the minicon unable to look at Russel’s growing expression of horror. He could not stop though. There was this knot, a _stone_ , in the bottom of his spark chamber weighing him down. A lot of his memories were frayed nowadays, but he recalled being assigned, _barely_ , to the Alchemor. He had just been glad to have a place to work and fuel at first. After all, he had a _glitch_ and he was also a _minicon_. If they noticed he had a glitch, they didn’t care. And Fixit hadn’t thought much of it, at first. He was just glad to be saved from the smelting pools. He had a place. He had a place.

_'_ _ **T** _ _h_ _ i _ _s_ _**i** _ _ s _ _your PLa_ _**c** _ _e, gliT_ _ c _ _heD.'_

Fixit shook his helm as he tried to disperse the strange staticy image. It was something he had … forgotten.

N-never mind that. So he now recalled they had thrust him into the dead of space, alone with barely any weapons, two hundred able-body Cons his cargo. He had survived, even if the Decepticon Hunters weren’t even in the same room as him! Honestly, it was like he had been set up to fail.

'I am _alOn_ _e. I aM_ _all Alone. At least there_ _ **a**_ _RE the_ _p_ _odS. At leAst They wEre therE to_ _taL_ _k to in the darkN_ _e_ _ss and Quiet. AT lEast therE's so_ **meB** O **t** _to talk to.'_

But why was he alone? Had he always been alone? Nonetheless, it was like they always intended for him to crash. It was as if they expected him to glitch out and crash into a star.

Maybe they had?

It had not been said to his face plates, but Fixit always knew … he was expendable. And so that little stone in the bottom of his spark grew with bitterness and hate. He-he had to get out of there. He had to -

_'E_ _**sc** _ _aPe. H_ _**E** _ _… nO, Th_ _ ey _ _Had to esc_ _ **A** _ _pe! hE_ _**ha** _ _d TO_ _ retUrn _ _.'_

Struggling to form words, his hands on his helm as he spit static and struggled with the new memory, Fixit tried to continue. He tried to press pass his glitch, the layered whispers in his helm. This had to be said, the words flowing out like a long kept confession, “F-for the most part, it was either s-starve or join the Decepticonnnnszzz, because they were the only ones that wanted you.”

Russel, watching Fixit slowly decay mentally, his glitch acting up worse than he had ever seen it, choked, “Glitches? Class? Energy consumption? I … I’m not an A+ history student Fixit, but that doesn’t sound like anyone’s fault. It just sounds … corrupt and prejudice. Does that … does that mean the Cons aren’t bad?”

Pressing down his fear of the Functionalists, the high casts and the class system, Fixit struggled with his programming, errors popping up in his HUD. Frag. He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down before he glitched. He had to stay useful … Or the Autobots were going to throw him away.

He always got tossed to the side, but the words were drowning his glossa and no one else was here.

He could say what he would.

Each word came out like broken static and yet Flixit admitted, “E-each mech in those pods made their cccc-choice. T-the A-a-a-a-Alchemor w-was from early on in the wwwwwwwar, so t-t-they aren’t as b-bad as M-mmmmegatron or-or his generalssszz, but they … they … they … they … made their choice.”

_'y_ _**o** _ _U_ _ 'r _ _e E_ _**xpe** _ _NdaB_ _**l** _ _e.'_

Russel, now wondering if he should start calling for his dad, swallowed, his words soft, “So … the Autobots were at fault?”

The minicon, his glitch threatening to seize up his entire CPU, managed to choke out the words, “ The Autobot Council … made their choices as well. They made the Decepticons. They made their own monsters.”

His next words came out almost biting, a hate he didn't know he had, “And they deserved it.”

‘ _YOu_ _ **r**_ _diR_ _ **ecT**_ _ive is SI_ _m_ _pL_ _e,_ _warD_ _ **En.**_ _You doN't co_ _m_ _e bAck.'_

“F-fixit? Dad! Dad! Something's wrong with Fixit! DAD!”

Fixit offlined and onlined his optics.

How had he gotten on the floor? And was that Russel shaking him? Why was his facial plate registering something wet … were those tears? Russel was crying over him, saying something. Huh, he always thought they would be harsh like salt water, tears that is, but they were soft and oh so warm. Like wet little clouds.

_ 'I  _ _… i_ _**ca** _ _n't Do tHat. I_ _**D** _ _o_ _ n'T h _ _aV_ _**e t** _ _o an_ _ sw _ _er t_ _**o y** _ _OU.'_

“Russel? What happened?” came an older voice, a large form now blurring into his vision, his neck strut quickly supported.

Was that Denny? Why was he petting his helm? That wouldn't help, not with his glitch, but it was so ...kind. So warm. Humans were so warm. Never hot, just warm. Like perfectly warmed oil.

“Hey, hey, Fixit. Come around, buddy. Come on. Come back around,” said Denny softly.

_**'Sy** _ _M_ _ paT _ _hIzer. s_ _**ym** _ _Pat_ _hiZ_ _ er _ _**!'** _

“There you go. Come on, buddy. That's it. Focus on me,” finally came a voice through the collection of memories and thoughts, and basically the jumbled mess that was Fixit's CPU. Coming back to himself, he noticed that Denny was awkwardly holding him, Russel knelt next to him as tears streamed down his face.

“Is he okay now, dad? I-I'm sorry. I thought it was a simple question. I didn’t mean to break Fixit. I’m sorry,” choked the youth, nearly sobbing.

“Its okay, Russel. You didn't break him. He's fine, right? Everything's okay now, right Fixit?” said Denny, giving a forced smile to the small mech.

_'h_ _**A** _ _hA …_ _ W _ _ **h** _ _At hAve you_ _ d _ _o_ _**n** _ _e? Are YoU su_ _ **r** _ _**e** _ _yoU a_ _ r _ _e_ _**w** _ _eaRIng t_ _ h _ _e_ _**RI** _ _Ght b_ _**ad** _ _ge, liT_ _ tl _ _e W_ _**a** _ _ **rD** _ _en?’_

Fixit … tried to get his vocalizer to listen to him. He tried to tell it to say all was fine and well. Perhaps, he could still hide his hurt and discontent. Perhaps he could pretend he hadn't confessed such things to a human, a youngling that probably didn't understand.

Words refused to form though. Instead, a staticy sob escaped his vocalizer … And then another and another sob followed after, coolant dribbling from his optics.

Denny, finally recognizing that this wasn't some kind of glitch, but a breakdown, pulled the minicon into a loose hug, surprisingly unhindered by his weight. His words were even warmer as he patted the minicon's back, “Oh, Fixit. Shh, shh. It's okay. Just get it all out. Its okay. You are safe here … with us.”

That only made the orange mech weep harder, vocalizer shorting out from time to time, but he did manage to whisper, “B-but I'm junkkkkk. _Tss_ - _zzzz._ N-no one w-wants a brokennn mini-mini-minicon.”

Smiling for real this time, Denny warmly said, “No you are not. You are not junk … even if no one else wants you. We do, don't we Russel?”

Russel, wiping tears messily away with his palms, nodded before wiping his nose with his sleeve.

Denny merely continued, “Besides … you can always stay here with us. You are welcome to our family, Fixit.”

At that, the stone in his spark seemed to heavy, so heavy it cracked the glass encircling his life force. The next thing Fixit knew he was crying harder. The dam had been broken. All his responsibilities and forced cheery programming couldn’t withstand the force of its sorrow. He started to weep. It was whole-spark weeping, staticy sobbing escaped his vocalizer as coolant started to drip down his face plates even faster from his optics.

But that was okay.

Everything was okay though because here, surrounded by junk and two short-lived organics, he was welcome. He was wanted. Glitched or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it really bothered me at first when I started watching RID15. Yes, I know it's a kids show and my expectations of political undertones shouldn't be so high, but with every episode I couldn't help but form a head cannon. I mean, come on, really? Why are most of the cons animal-formers? The only one that isn't is Fracture and that's because he was never on the ship to begin with. Also, a lot of them seem guilty of lesser crimes. In other words, not war crimes like the Cons towards the end of the war. So, I can only deduct that these prisoners were all from early on in the war, when the council's prejudices were still high. In other words, way before Cybertron was abandoned. I mean, look at Grimlock. Plus, long time stasis might explain alot of the ... well ... crazy.
> 
> Also, what is with all the minicons? Even Slipstream and Jetfire admitted to being involved in crime.
> 
> Plus, the Team Bee, even though I don't believe its on purpose, really don't treat Fixit that well. Poor guy.
> 
> Furthermore, since they never go into great detail about what started the war in RID15, I've formed a head cannon for that as well. Obviously, there were energon shortages and some mix of Functionalists. Plus, I threw a dash of Armada-lore in there about the mini-cons rumored to be Unicrons creations.
> 
> Regardless, I rather like the vagueness of how the Alchemor crashed. So, I asked myself, what if it wasn't on purpose? Had the accident really been one? Why was the little warden seemingly alone? What if there was a reason his weapons were offline and it wasn't just the accident? Why was he in the middle of the forest repeatedly saying, 'Escape?' What if he didn't even know what he was? So many what ifs not answered in the episodes. Lanny-Sama and me had a fun discussion about it though. Thus this occurred. I will be adding a second chapter to get a little more into that, but enjoy this angsty-fluff what-if.


	2. 'Ant' that the Truth

Fixit rolled off into a quieter part of the junkyard, near some of the stasis pods. He didn't want any of the other bots to see his distress. His optics just couldn't calibrate right, so they were blinking at random intervals making his dizzy. His vents were also panting like systems were failing to boot up correctly. The problem was … he didn't even recognize half these systems.

Moaning in distress, he immediately collapsed onto an old bucket car seat and started whining in agony as he took his helm into his servos.

His helm was killing him. He almost wanted to cry with how horrible the constant ache had become. He knew he should tell someone, anyone, but he also knew _exactly_ what was wrong.

Last week he had had a breakdown and had confessed some pent up agonies to Russel and Denny. With each revealed truth a thousand agonies came pouring forward. So many memories. So many thoughts had bobbed to the surface of his mind like driftwood rising from the bottom, a sunken ship slowly being revealed piece by piece. He wanted to hyperventilate with each corrupt memory file that presented itself to him, especially if Bumblebee ever found out about … what he had done.

_'_ _ s _ _ym_ _**Pa** _ _thiZ_ _ **Er** _ _.'_

Fixit shook his helm, whining as he tried to keep the memory at bay, to dislodge its hold on him.

“No, no, no!” whined the small mech. “I don't want to remember. I d-d-don't want to!”

The memories came nonetheless like a rising tide inland, flooding everything with its deep dark waters. Thus, Fixit was swept under.

...

_'He dIdn't knOw why … but there weRe no other mInibots on this s **hi** p. Part of hiS Mind whispered ThAt there had been. Had been. Ha **d b** eEn? When he we **N** t to question where they had Went … he woUldn't want to rEme **Mb** er. Instead, he would l **eaV** e the command deck, the only sound beSides his own turning tires waS the dulled r **uMbLe** of the star ship **'s E** ngine floors and floors bE **lO** w. It was like a juGGe **rnA** ut was groWling up At hi_ **m** _… saying he didn't be lONg. _

_He wandEr ed the half l **it h** alls regArdleSs. _

_He di **dn'** t KnOw why he dId this. Why he roamed thE halls. He wouLd st **op at** ranDom  stasis cha **m** bErs and pull up the Da **t** a file for the mech i **nSid** e. Over time, he leArned all of th **eIr** names. Every sinGle o **N** e. He diDn't care any more For o **n** e of th **e ot** hEr. The mech … m **e** chS … he had been lo **O** king for weren't on th **is** sHip. At lea **st** he didN' **t thi** nk so. _

_He coulDn't remem ber who he had bee **n looking for.**_

_**Why Was he loo** **king** **fOr anyone to** begin with? _

_His optiCs would then glitch aNd he wO **uld** find himSelf in a completely **diff** eren **t** hallway, a groon of time missing. He would tHen sigh … h **a** ting his glitCh an **d br** okenness. But At lEas **t it w** aSn't all bad. It wasn'T all bad he had t **o te** ll himself in thE dim And q **uiet.** He had Plenty of mechs to talk to. Lots of … friends. _

_Readin g theiR files, their caSe reports, **he Fe** lt he knew them. He felt that He H **ad ju** st had A conversation with them. _

_And **slo** wly … ever so slowly he gOt the u **rge** **t** o open the containmen **t units** and speak tO the m. To ask abOut THe **mec** hs he waS looking for. To hear a voice, just a siN **gle** oNe to chAse awaY the slow **ly** growing maw in his spArk, the acHe that alwaYs seemed to b **e the** re … but he didn't **Da** re. T **here** was Something moR e importa **nt** to do. he kneW he was suPposed to do something moRe than Gu **ar** d these frOzen statues. _

_But wHat?_

_Since hE couldn't reCall. He **woul** d tell thE frozen spaRks about his day. The **systeMs he** fixed, the interestiNg **files** he ha **d rE** ad, the coLor of the star they had p **aS** sed and anything else he cOuld think oF. It didn't help w **i** th the Gaping **hol** e in his spark tHo **ug** h. It didn't seTtle **Th** e glitch … the whisPer in the back of His he **lm ju** st told hiM again to sear **ch a** nd to tEll his friEnds wHat need **ed** to be said.'_

…

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Fixit twitched, slowly coming online … to something pocking on his helm. He batted it away, thinking it was Russel poking him online again. He didn't know why the human did that, but apparently he did it to everyone. Denny said he would grow out of … someday... and then the man would tiredly poor himself another coffee.

Despite himself, Fixit was slowly growing used to the smell of coffee and found he liked the rich, poignant scent. It was grounding and consistent each and every morning. His mind could always count on the smell to drag him back.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Fixit moaned and waved his servo in front of his face as if trying to shoo away a fly. His optics weren't even fully online yet and his helm was already killing him. Couldn't they give him a few more kliks to online properly?

“Mhhh, still booting up,” slurred the minicon, optics blinking off and on rapidly as he tried to speed up the process. He couldn't even remember the last time he had recharged so deeply that he had to actually slowly boot-up. He couldn't even remember when he had went into recharge. All he knew was his helm ached when he tried to pull up the most recent memory files.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Vents huffing, figuring this was probably Sideswipe more than Russel taunting him, the minicon finally snapped and growled, “I _said_ I'm booting up! G-give me a klik!”

Vocals failing him a moment later, the minicon immediately regretted his words. He was supposed to know better than to snap at his superiors. He was supposed to keep his helm down. He was supposed to be unseen … forgettable.

“Now, now little warden. Don't yah know its not nice to yell at mechs that are just tryin' to help yah out? After all, its not safe to nap out here … never know what kind of folks yah might run into,” came a smooth _memorable_ voice.

After all, how could Fixit forget _that_ voice? He had been all but taken prisoner by him.

Optics coming completely online, the small mech slammed against … a tree? How? What? Was he in the forest? When had he gotten out here? But more concerning … why was Chop Shop here?!

Vocals whining, Fixit took in the sight of the maroon mech kneeling over him. It was as if … the mech had been assisting him moments ago. He even had a data cord in his hand as if he was about to up-link with the minicon's systems. What was trying to _do_? For that matter, how had the thief freed himself? All his combiners were in the stasis pod last time he checked.

Swallowing, armor clamping down as he made sure every data port was locked tight, Fixit tried to gather himself. He was terrified … though the whisper, the one that always hid on the static of his glitch, was telling him there was no reason to be afraid. None at all.

He swore the glitch was out to get him _killed_.

Overcoming the whisper in the back of his helm, Fixit's vocals shook with static as he tried to understand the situation. “W-what are you doing here? What am I doing here? How did you even get out again? If … I … did you bot nap me again? I am _not_ going to be one of your limbs, so you can forget it!”

Rearing back slightly as if surprised, the maroon mech's optics seemed to brighten with understanding. He immediately sighed and grumbled something about horrible timing before he rolled up the jack in his wrist, the up-link disappearing from sight. He then looked Fixit up and down as if disappointed, vents huffing.

“Meh … bot napped yah? If that's what yah want to think _little warden,”_ said the ant combiner faking a hurt expression as he brought a hand up to his chassis. “I was merely trying to help a minicon out, liberate yah from those Autobots. We own yah one after all. For liberating us.”

Fixit, slowly pushing away his near panic, got to his wheels, his vocals almost glitching, “L-liberate? I don't k-know what you are talking about. And i-if you are taking about the ship crashing … that was an accident.”

Fixit's plating flared in irritation. He wasn't that bad of a pilot. It had been an accident? He … ugh. Yes, that's what the ship black box said. Regardless, he knew he should say something more, comm for help, freak out, bring his weapons online … wait. He didn't have internal weapons. No. No. He was mostly a maintenance worker. He didn't have anything like that. Why else would he need the Decepticon Hunters. Besides, only war-models had internal weapons unless a mech got upgraded for it.

He wasn't important enough for an upgrade. That's for sure. They basically left him to die on the prison ship if there was a prison break after all.

_'THis is a vEry im **poRt** ant missi **on:** YOu mUst n **ot** fail,' came A sOft voice, **a rare** vOice, visor Bearing d **oW** n on Him.' _

He blinked again, nearly back pedaling into the tree with a yelp a klik later. Chop Shop was now squatting in front of him, a inch away from touching his helm. Sweet Primus! How had he gotten closer?! Had he another time lapse? No, no, no! He couldn't handle new memories right now. He had to concentrate. He had to get out of this! Primus, why hadn't he called Bumblebee yet for assistance?! It wasn't like Chop Shop had control over his systems like last time!

“Your glitching hard right now, ain't chay?” said the ant-form, frowning deeply. “Your rememberin' though, aren't cha, little warden?”

Fixit started slightly … How did, how did this mech know he had forgotten anything? Yes, Chop Shop might have been able to take over his systems, but not his memories. Those were his … and his alone.

_Right?_

“I-I don't bow-low- _know_ what you are talking about!” he finally spat defensively, if only to chase away the silence of the question.

Pit. Why was he still standing here?! Why wasn't he calling Bumblebee? It was like part of him wanted to talk to this mech.

Watching Fixit's expression pinch into one of ever growing confusion, the larger mech's engine huffed in irritation, but Chop Shop smiled slightly regardless. “My little mech, you might not remember me … _yet_ … but I remember you.”

Fixit did not like how Chop Shop said that. Those words were loaded and … it was like he was talking about an entirely different minicon.

“But,” added the thief, “maybe this will remind you. Now, let me ask you a question, my little mech: why haven't you ratted meh out yet? Why isn't the yellow chap and his cronies not bearin' down on me right now? Or, better yet, why didn't yah call Cybertron when the ship crashed? Even if the comms were damaged, yah are resourceful. Aren't yah? I mean, I see that yah have even started building a space bridge while I've been sleepy eyed and dead to the world. A radio is not a leap or bound compared to that, now is it little warden?”

Fixit's mouth opened and then closed again. He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't even have an excuse it seemed. Why hadn't he done anything like that?

Chop Shop, watching Fixit's armor pull close, chuckled darkly before rising to his peds. He then gibingly smiled like he knew something and wasn't about to tell.

Speaking as if speaking to a compatriot and not the opposite fraction, the maroon mech added, “Well, when you recall what's important, yah can come to me. The lads and I will be around. Can't have yah hurting yourself, now can we?”

To add to the insult, Chop Shop then tapped his helm.

Swallowing, hating himself, but not knowing what else to say, the small mech couldn't help but ask, “Wait. I … umm … H-how do you know what's going on? T-the memories, I mean. I haven't t-told anyone. And why aren't you trying to bot nap me again? Is this all some kind of trick?!”

There was a pregnant pause, a cicada howling somewhere in the woods with its lonely song. Chop Shop's optics seem to stare into Fixit's very spark though as if contemplating what to say. Then, like a bad omen, the mech spoke softly, “Well, I was plugged into yah. I saw the things that _you_ no longer can, and like old Soundwave used to say … _it always good to have some optics on the inside_. But yah would know all about that, wouldn't yah?”

Without another word, the larger mech was turning away, peds light and almost soundless on the soft earth. Apparently he had said his peace and there was nothing more to be said. To Fixit, watching that larger form disappear into the growing gloom offered by the forest trees, it was as if Chop Shop was death himself and the little mech had just had a close encounter the entity fading away.

He would live another day, but be haunted all the more for it.

Fixit, not knowing what else to do, felt the first tear fall. Then another and another, coolant dripping down his face plates in frustration. This was all so … surreal. What was going on? What was happening to him? Had Chop Shop put some kind of spyware or virus into his systems when he was out. Had it always been there? What was he talking about? Better yet ... What was wrong with him?

But none of this encounter, the memory loss, the terror in his spark … nothing compared to the horror of Chop Chop's last words. They seemed to hold so much weight, so much power … and now they were starting to eat at him. Those words were eating at walls built so long ago in his mind.

He … He ... didn't want to remember.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is a horrible Chop Shop joke (given his lads are ants apparently instead of spiders) and I regret nothing. Also, woo me! I figured out how I wanted to end this little beauty. Somehow it turned into a little mystery and instead of being two chapters, it is now five chapters. The outline is done so it shouldn't take too long. The end … is going to be beautiful. I can't wait. 
> 
> Mmmmm, angst.


	3. Like a Second Face

The last few weeks had been a nightmare since the strange Chop Shop meeting in the woods.

Personally, Fixit was struggling just to keep it together. To keep smiling and working and … keeping the memories as bay _._ He couldn't let the new team members know how deficient, how _glitched_ he really was, but more importantly he couldn't let Bumblebee see that he was falling apart. Some days were worse than others … and today was one of the worst.

Fixit shuddered as pain enveloped his helm and he had to lock his gears into place to keep standing. He tried not to look at Bumblebee directly and attracted attention he didn't need. Bumblebee had this thing about meeting other bots optics and Fixit couldn't do that right now. He couldn't look any mech in the optics without feeling like some kind of traitor. After all, he hadn't told a spark about what had happened in the forest … of that Chop Shop even escaped. He, instead, had cried himself ragged and then came back and worked himself ragged, trying to forget it all. Personally, Fixit was sure that if he met Bumblebee's gaze at this point, that the yellow mech would see what he had done … what he had hidden.

 _'sYmpA_ _ **th**_ _izer_.'

The minicon shuddered as a memory tried to rise to the surface, but he managed to wrestle it down and keep the comms open. They were currently speak with the away team: Optimus' team. He had to keep it together. He had to keep it together … especially since Optimus _terrified_ him.

He didn't know why. It was like an old nightmare. Honestly, seeing Optimus for the first time was like reliving an old trauma that wasn't his. It frankly couldn't be his fear. Why would be be afraid of the savior of the Autobots? Why would he be scared of a Prime-

 _'Bro, br_ _ **O, stop**_ _glitChIng_ _and pay atte_ _ **Nti**_ _on. Old PriMes here. If he_ _find_ _s us … you know wHo he'll giVe us_ _t_ _o: Re_ _ **d a**_ _nd_ _his ra_ _ggity bA_ _ **Nd oF mi**_ _sfi_ _ **ts, if**_ _you_ _know_ _WhAt I mean.'_

_'Yeah, listen To_ _ Us. The _ _Prime's here ... Frag, FRag_ _**, I t** _ _hink hE spotTed us, BrO! MoV_ _ E! M _ _ove! Mov_ _**e! C** _ _all the bo_ _ ss! Ca _ _ll tHE boss! FiX-'_

“-It?”

Fixit jumped, the world coming back to him like a splash of cold water, his systems almost going into shock. That memory had been so deep. So … _old_. He wasn't even that old! It had to be someone else's memory. After all, it was mostly an audio file with splashes of shadows. There was a little imagery except for a flash of visors and cocky little grins. Nonetheless … his spark suddenly ached from the sight of it. It was like it was a long forgotten desperation. A desperation he chased so fiercely that he had forcibly forgotten it to make the pain stop.

_'I'm_ _**soR** _ _Ry … It w_ _ as  _ _M-m_ _ y fa _ _ult.'_

_Hi_ _**s aG** _ _Ony_ _ was  _ _onLy_ _**meant** _ _with A_ _**sile** _ _ nt sta _ _re. It wA_ _**s e** _ _nough to crush his spAR_ _**k** _ _thOUgh_ _**. En** _ _ough to M_ _ ake hi _ _ **m** _ _**v** _ _ow that he wou_ _**LD do a** _ _nYthin_ _ g TO g _ _ **e** _ _**t the** _ _m Back._

“Hey? Hey, Fixit? You listening?” finally came Bumblebee through the din.

Fixit, perking up, his helm previously inclined towards the control panel, looked around in a surprise. All of the mechs were now looking at him with critical to almost worried gazes. Not knowing what else to say, Fixit merely stated, “I'm sorry? What?”

Bumblebee sighed in irritation, door wings dipping.

“Optimus asked about the status on the ground-bridge was and if you found out what was the source of the explosion was yet?” said Bee, tone no longer concerned as he crossed his arms over his chassis.

Offlining and onlining his optics once in confusion, his mind whispering something about a space-bridge which was quickly squashed, the minicon gasped and waved his arms as he tried to keep his usual warm and friendly tone. He didn't have time to deal with old memories. He had to keep it together and keep up appearances. After all, he was starting to worry. What if he found out all of those memories were actually his. Truthfully, they felt like they belong to somebot else entirely … but at the same time-

_'W_ _ e _ _Ar it liK_ _**e a se** _ _con_ _ d F _ _ace.'_

“Well,” said Fixit, coming back to himself an astro-klik later feeling sick over the softly spoken memory file and how it echoed right down it his frame supports. “I've concluded that it was the same type of sabotage that crashed the Alchemor.”

For a moment everyone stared at him, varying types of confusion on all of the Autobots faces. Bee, apparently too stumped to form words at this time, had Grimlock speak in his stead. “Uh … come again?

Blinking his optics again, seeming to understand how confusing that might seem, Fixit continued, “Well, it had the same _calling card_ , if you will, in the computers systems. Likely, it was the same viral code that brought down the Alchemor.”

As soon as the words left his vocals there was a sting in the back of his helm, like he had been foolish and forgot himself.

Trying not to cringe at the deep sting from his old glitch, he exchanged glances with all the mechs looking at him. Drawing back slightly, feeling scrutinized, he whispered, “Was it something I said?”

Bee, finally gathering himself, rose his door wings in irritation. “Yeah … when did you find out what crashed the Alchemor, Fixit? I thought you were unable to figure it out, but now you are saying it was some type of sabotage?”

Cringing, servos suddenly clicking together in regret, Fixit started to stutter. “We that is … I didn't … I thought I … already told you?”

Sighing, covering his optics for a moment in frustration, Bumblebee finally stood up straight. “No. No you didn't. In fact, you seem to be forgetting a lot lately, Fixit. I don't even know if we can trust you to fix the ground-bridge without you glitching.”

Optics going wide, spark hammering and suddenly deeply insulted, Fixit felt something shift in him, something that wouldn't take that type of treatment from a mere _Autobot_.

“Well, I am no less incompetent then you Bumblebee … the Senate all but banished you into a no name position as a lowly enforcer and then _forgot_ you here on Earth,” hissed something deep inside the minicon, Fixit's mouth moving of its own violation; if Fixit wasn't feeling his mouth components moving on their own right now, he wouldn't have know if they came from him at all. “Really? Is that how Autobots thank a war hero? The scout that killed _Meg-a-tron_?”

...

_'For_ _ Me _ _G-_ _**A-** _ _Tron.'_

...

Fixit wasn't sure what happened after that, what Bee had said in his defense, but the next thing he knew he was asking for a subsonic amplifier and it was placed in his servo. He blinked suddenly noting he wasn't before the Alchemor's control panel anymore. Instead, his form's arms were deep in the ground-bridge's control panel. He blinked, confused … what? Another time skip?

Swallowing, telling himself not to panic, to act natural, the minibot ignored his stinging helm and turned to thank Denny for giving him the right part. Denny knew his stuff, but these were alien parts after all. Alien parts he hadn't thought they had. Yet, the words died short, his vocals going offline. He nearly dropped the tool he had in hand when he saw that it was the middle of the night … and who had given him the part, his inner timers now blaring at him how many groons he had missed since this afternoon.

Those missing hours comparatively were nothing to the fact that one of Chop Shop's components was standing next to him … apparently handing him parts.

Despite himself, Fixit reared back in shock only to slam into something else … something else that swore at him in a garbled way. Turning, gears squealing in stress, Fixit was greeted with the glare of another ant component. An ant that was apparently helping rewire the ground-bridge.

W-what was going on?

Optics going bright, mouth opening as if to scream, the one ant seemed to realize something was amiss and started hissing at the other ant. Before he knew it, Fixit was being pushed against the consul he had been working on astro-kliks ago, the one ant component hissing, “Shshsh, don't screams. We'll leave. We'll leave. We were just helping you along like asked, we were. You're waking though. Waking, yes. We will go for now. We will leave until _you_ sleep again. Yes. Yes, little warden. Shh. Shh. Just between us.”

Then, before Fixit could even hope to digest what had been said, the weight was off of his throat and vocals, two ant forms crawling over the wall. Rubbing his throat he struggled to collect himself.

Yet, standing there, servo on his throat still, Fixit didn't know if he should cry for help or call after the bugs. In the end, too petrified to even comprehend what had just happened and what was happening to him, he chose to just stand there and quietly cry his optics out, little drops of coolant falling to the earth and being absorbed as if they were nothing.

What was happening to him?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens. Weeeeee! Next chapter should be a doozy. Yep, yep, yep. And sorry if this seems somewhat disjointed. I'm going from Fixit's point of view now and things … things are going haywire for the poor little bot. Oooh, shh, little Fixit. I promise I won't torture you forever. Just two more chapters and then we are done!


	4. Master

Fixit … had been too afraid to go into recharge after waking to the ants at the ground bridge. He had been too terrified of himself and even more afraid of … Bumblebee? Why would be think that? What had Bee said in turn? Was it why there didn't seem to be anyone else in the scrapyard?

What was going on?

So, not knowing what else to do, Fixit shakily went back to work. He looked over everything as if searching for sabotage. Instead, he found parts replaced. Parts he had needed, but hadn't had. Thus brought to light the next question: where had they come from?

_'_ _ **I** _ _nEE_ _**d p** _ _artS ChOp_ _ SHop … p _ _arts a_ _**m** _ _ech l_ _**ikE** _ _YOu c_ _ aN g _ _eT.'_

Fixit shivered at the memory. Chop Shop had even been looking down at him with a deep set frown, like he was confused and deeply unsettled at the same time. It was an expression he had never seen before and could have never imagined seeing on the smooth talking thief's face plates. Yet, there was the memory of it. A memory directed towards him … obviously while on Earth.

He dropped the wrench he had been holding at the thought, suddenly feeling sick to his tank. The clanging sound seemed to rouse someone else though … someone that nearly made Fixit burst into tears in relief.

“Hey Fixit? You sure are up earlier than usual,” said Denny, half jogging across the yard, tone as cheery and happy as usual. “I was just going to make some breakfast before the sun got too high. Want to go _treasure_ hunting while its still cool outside? Junk doesn't find itself.”

Coming to a halt before the small bot, the human frowned deeply, already seeing the shake in Fixit's servos. Then, before the minicon could even react, he was being pulled into a hug, the human patting his back.

“Oh Fixit, you were out here all night working on this thing, weren't you? I know you were upset with what happened with Bumblebee yesterday, but being this upset isn't worth it. I know you didn't mean to verbally lash out at Bumblebee and I think everyone knows that … though I am kind of glad you did. It was about time you stood up for yourself,” said the human, pulling his minicon friend closer, the contact almost fatherly more so than that of a friend.

“And … honestly,” continued the human after a moment of dragging silence. “I was good that Optimus found out how bad things were on Cybertron. What they were blaming him for. Hell, I don't know who this Senator Ratbat is, but it seems like what he did to Bumblebee and the rest of Team Prime was wrong. Cutting them off from Earth and their Earth friends. No wonder Bee doesn't want to get too close to Russel after what happened with the Raf kid.”

Fixit swallowed feeling horrible and confused. When had this happened? Yesterday? He didn't remember this.

“Its just … Its just wrong and I am glad you said something to Bee and Optimus about it. Cybertron seems to be basically stonewalling them. I mean Optimus' friend, Ratchet, he's a doctor and they sent him out to hunt war criminals. A doctor! Really? What is wrong with them? Sweet Mother Mary, I didn't think Optimus could get mad … but its a good thing those two hashed it out. It needed to be said,” finally finished Denny pulling out of the hug while placing a comforting hand on Fixit's shoulder plate.

Fixit, spark hammering at this point, didn't know what to say. Frag, what had he said yesterday? More importantly, how … had he even known those things? Yes, he overheard things, rumors passing through the airways, but had he really garnered so much information from merely listening in on Autobot lines?

Shaking off the smug feeling seeming to rise from somewhere … _else_ … he allowed the human to pat his shoulder. In turn, he struggled to smile as he wiped gathering cleanser away from his optics. “I-its oooooo-okay Benny-Jenny- _Denny_! At least one good thing lame-blame- _came_ from all of this … I fixed the _space_ – ground-bridge.”

Denny started as if surprised. But … they hadn't had the parts? Had they?

“We can call the away team back at anytime,” said Fixit, trying to gather his confidence and push away the fear when he thought of … Optimus Prime … returning. Really? It was Optimus. What did he have to be afraid of?

_'Do_ _ N _ _ **'t** _ _**bE A** _ _fraId … this w_ _ ill  _ _on_ _**lY** _ _Be a st_ _ ing.  _ _Ju_ _**st …** _ _keep yoUR he_ _ lM s _ _ **t** _ _**i** _ _ll … Si_ _ nce _ _thiS is work_ _**on** _ _yOur CPU. It is im_ _ Pera _ _**tiv** _ _e tHat_ _ you d _ _on'T move.'_

Fixit, despite the sudden sting in the back of his neck, where the impute jack was located, he kept smiling as Denny went and got Bumblebee telling him the good news. He honestly couldn't even comprehend what the yellow officer was saying. All he could do was dwell on the memory he just had. No, no. No one had messed with his mind. If anything, it was a memory he forgot when he was trying to get his glitch fixed. Yes, that was it. Then again, he had never ever tried to get the glitch fixed. If anything, he ignored programmers like the plague.

He didn't want them touching him.

Then … why was someone messing with his helm?

_'Do_ _ n't  _ _B_ _**e A** _ _fraid,' sa_ _ Id  _ _A_ _**wh** _ _isper, v_ _**Ocal** _ _s so sof_ _**t, a** _ _borro_ _ Wed v _ _oice. 'You W_ _ ill reme _ _m_ _**beR** _ _me, even_ _**if a** _ _lL of_ _ you _ _**do** _ _Esn't reca_ _**ll. Y** _ _ou w_ _ ill re _ _Membe_ _**r … An** _ _d tHe_ _**n y** _ _ ou W _ _Ill co_ _**me** _ _Home.'_

“Hit it Fixit,” suddenly came Bumblebee's voice, the minicon suddenly coming through the din. Wait? What? Oh yes, yes. He had been lost in his thoughts. Bumblebee wanted him to start the ground-bridge. Yes, yes. He had to do that because …

_'_ _**CO** _ _ me fi _ _nd Me w_ _**h** _ _En yo_ _ u A _ _ **R** _ _**e r** _ _eady...'_

He was ready. Yes, he was ready.

Wait?

What? What was he ready for?

Wait, these coordinates were all off. No, no, no. This was all wrong! It was bridging to this location. TWICE! Oh. No. NO. NO! Something dangerous was coming … coming for them all. For him! He could feel it!

“Fixit!” came a cry from Bumblebee as two swirling blue vortexes appeared, the yellow mech taking a step back from the forming tunnels. “Stop! Stop! Stop it! You are going to open the -”

'sha **D** **o** w zoNe …' ca **m** e a v **oIce** thro ugh a Buz **z o** f Sta **Tic.** '

But it was already to late ...

Slowly, as if time was dragging and pulling the minicon down into his own personal nightmare, a thin dangerous form slowly came out of the now swirling green vortex with almost a bored stride. And there, in silent all encompassing reverence, stood none other than Megatron's third in command. The silent gladiator, the Decepticon spymaster, the keeper of secrets and woe … was Soundwave.

He was a silent nightmare given form … and yet only part of Fixit was horrified. Another part of him … was tired. Just tired. Like he had been waiting for this for far too long and he was ready to rest. He swallowed at the strange feeling, his EM field pulling close. The only rest he would be having anytime soon … was when he was deactivated. Soundwave would likely kill them all if it was in his best interest.

Bee, overcoming his own horror, reacted like the raised soldier he was and called his small team to battle.

Fixit, watching Bee move with deadly grace as he threw the first punch, was pulled under once more, a great truth drowning him as Bee screamed for him to reopen the shadow zone.

_'The sha-a-a-dow-zo_ _ ne. To Ea _ _-r_ _**-th** _ _. Co---- find m_ _ e--- whe _ _n yOu are--- ready,' c_ _**Am** _ _e a buzz of staTic again t_ _ hrOu _ _gh the_ _ Mai _ _n ra_ _**dio on** _ _the Alchemor, the minicon nExt to Fixit jumping._

_'That … was st_ _**rang** _ _e,' saiD Toolbox as h_ _**e lo** _ _oke_ _ d up  _ _For his ConSole, his Servos clicking togethEr ne_ _**rvo** _ _us_ _ ly. Th _ _e Radio_ _**h** _ _aDn't been On earlier._

_Fixit, as if su_ _**DD** _ _enly wak_ _**ing** _ _fro_ _ m a d _ _reAm, intook shArp_ _**ly, his v** _ _ents sputTering. A nIghtmar_ _**e o** _ _f w_ _**aitin** _ _g and being of … two faces … rOse his he_ _**ad … k** _ _nowing what hAd_ _ to be  _ _done. Earth. Earth. He h_ _ Ad to go _ _to Earth. He had to return To his Master, but first … he hAd to get rid of_ _ minor dI _ _stractions._

_He tuRned a cold gaze to TOolbox._

_'Fixit?” asKed ToolbOx lo_ _**oKIn** _ _g concerned, a tRace of fear in his vocals. 'D_ _**id y** _ _Ou just glitch again? Your oPtics look st_ _**range,** _ _aLmost red? Do You neeD the reSt of the cycle off?'_

_'Yes …,' slowly said Fi_ _**xit fro** _ _ m his o _ _ther half, plaNning and plotting miXIn_ _ g aro _ _und in a N_ _**ewly r** _ _e-awoken pArt of his helm. 'I ha_ _**ve m** _ _Uch to dwell on. Much indeed.'_

_He reallY diD_ _**hav** _ _e so much_ _ to do.  _ _So muCh indeed … a sh_ _**ip jUs** _ _t didn't hea_ _ d oF _ _f course and cRash on it_ _**S Ow** _ _n after all._

“No! No! NO!” cried Fixit, his servos pounding against his helm. He did this! He did this all! He … he was a saboteur, a spy, a turn coat, a sleeper agent! He uploaded the virus to the ship, which infected the ship and the other minicons, forcing them to sleep. He forced the ship to turn towards Earth and finally … to crash.

He was a Decep … Decep ...

“No!” screamed Fixit hoarsely as the truth hit him fully like a wrecking ball, his vocals squealing so loudly that even Soundwave flinched at the echoing noise. He quickly overcame it though when he got a good look at the panicking minicon.

He stalled.

Then, seemingly now in a haste, the spymaster quickly slammed a tentacle into Bumblebee's chassis and pressed him down into the earth. The poor yellow mech's vents choked, likely clogging with dirt. Then, to finish off the bot, one of Soundwave's tentacles slammed into the younger bot's back electrocuting him. The scout screamed out before collapsing.

Then, turning quickly, Soundwave was then dodging Grimlock, sliding to the side. His next attack was seamless as he tripped the green bot with a tentacle. Grimlock barked out in surprise and then was tripping right over Bumblebee whom was still trying to drag himself out of the dirt. The impact was loud and jarring, the two bots groaning as they both collapsed into a heap of living metal.

Soundwave slowly rose back to full height when it became obvious that Bumblebee was not going to get up. So he stared for a moment as if the pile of Autobots, a job well done. Yet, still on a schedule, he didn't waste another moment before the slim mech turned all of his attention to the small orange bot with an intensity that could only belong to a predator. Then, movement frighteningly smooth and silent, Soundwave was kneeling before the small minibot before Fixit could even react. Looking up, helm still in his servos, Fixit shook his head in denial.

“No! No! No!” whined the minibot, unable to move away as a fist pounded his helm in denial. “This can't be happening. I can't be a Decep … a Decep … a Decep-”

“Calm down,” came a recording, a voice so familiar yet Fixit didn't want to recall.

“No. No. No,” he warbled, terrified of himself. He almost wished Soundwave would just strike him. Instead, the mech merely knelt before him, waiting, ever patient.

He hated it.

He missed it.

_'_ _**M** _ _ a _ _S_ _**te** _ _ R _ _.'_

Finally, as if tired of watching the small mech harm himself, a tentacle calmly slithered forward and wrapped around the small mech's waist. It wasn't tight or harsh or cruel. Slightly restraining, but barely just. Nonetheless, Fixit was horrified, the fists that had been pounding his own helm now moved to try and pry off the metallic limb. Not that it helped much.

“Stop, stop, stop!” he cried, processor about to fritz out as Soundwave actually moved forward, picking him up. “No, no, this isn't happening. Please stop!”

“Hush little one,” finally came a recording of a femme's voice, old and so calm despite Fixit's panic. “You will damage yourself.”

Shaking his helm, his mind feeling fuzzy like he was going to fritz out, Fixit tried to concentrate on the sound of Bumblebee yelling in the background telling Soundwave to put him down. Yet, that meant nothing, none of this meant anything, as the spybot's words ran over his circuits, seeming to burn him with their truth.

“You saved me. Freed me. A job well done, ” said Soundwave softly, a recording so old that it nearly made Fixit weep. It was Megatron's voice … when he was young and nothing but a gladiator.

How he knew that … he didn't even know, but it stirred something deep within in.

He started weeping.

Bumblebee, hearing this, was now screaming for Soundwave to put him down, but the spymaster cared little for the screaming of Autobots. All his attention was on a little orange mech … which he hadn't seen in ages. He merely ran a soothing hand over the smaller bot's helm, EM field fluttering forward and drowning the small mech with its familiarness.

And that was it, Fixit's mind could take no more. The minicon was falling, body going limp into Soundwave's hands as he was pulled into the larger mech's chassis, part of his systems saying he was safe while the other part screamed he was in danger.

The last words he heard, before going under belonged to multiple voices, mixed together so perfectly they seemed to come from Soundwave's very vocals, “... oh how I've missed you … little one … Now, tell me … did you find your brothers?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the big reveal. I'm sure everyone saw it coming, but it was fun nonetheless. Just one more chapter left. :3


	5. King of the Castle

“No, No, no, no! Please put me down,” cried Fixit as Soundwave landed almost soundlessly near what appeared to be an abandoned airfield. Soundwave merely petted the back of the minicon's helm in reaction, walking forward calmly even as one of the hanger doors slid open and revealed none other than Chop Shop.

Fixit wailed louder. He didn't want to be here. Not with the spymaster and certainly not with Chop Shop. He kept … blacking out the way it was. He knew he was telling the spymaster things he shouldn't and it was probably going to be twice as bad around the ant-former. He had to get away before … before he remembered more.

He didn't want to forget who he was!

The red mech, meanwhile, smiled nervously and rubbed his hands together as the purple mech approached him with a struggling burden. “Soundwave … I still can't … I don't know how … I just thought the little mech was … well, glitched, but you are really here.”

Soundwave merely looked at the nervous mech, picking a familiar voice: Rumbles. “Fixit isn't glitched, slagger!”

He then changed to another voice, an old Decepticon programmer. “The programming will keep him safe. He will think himself an Autobot and do his tasks unknowingly until you call him back home. And if anything is suspected … they'll just uncover his existing glitch, the vocal errors he already has. They will suspect nothing.”

Nodding, part of him disgusted with the fact Soundwave had created a sleeper agent from one of his own, Chop Shop grumbled, “I was wondering why his programming seems so … elusive. And then, out of nowhere, he lets me out of that stasis chamber and starts commanding me to do things in your name. I was sure he was glitched, but they were good ideas so I followed them. Build the space-bridge, hide Con signals … find the rest of the ship.”

Soundwave, Fixit still weakly trying to get out of his arms like a fussy toddler, nodded and looked at the space-bridge in one of the hangers. It wasn't a pretty job but it was mostly done, except for one small detail … they needed it placed in the ship. Originally, he had merely planned to jump to one of Shockwave's secret bases, but getting the rest of the ship was now a must. They could place the space-bridge inside the ship afterward so that it could jump across the galaxy. It could also be used as a ground-bridge with some program tweaking. Problem was …

“Where is the ship?” came the voice of a confused mech … long since lost to the war. Probably because he lost the ship.

Chop Shop chuckled darkly, looking nervous as he tried to ignore Fixit's pounding little servos against Soundwave's thin unyielding fingers, a tentacle petting Fixit's helm a moment later as if trying to calm a young spark's meaningless fit. “That's the thing … The signals Fixit was hiding, the other Cons, well … they don't want to help. They don't care about the cause any more or even our fraction. All they want is the ship, the rest of the Alchemor, for themselves.”

Soundwave used another voice this time, cocky and strong. One borrowed right from a young Megatron. “We can't have that … now can we?”

…

“You have to be joking?! There is no way this is going to work. None. You are one mech. One!” said Chop Shop as Soundwave activated the small space-bridge, remotely tuning it to his command systems. A few kliks later, it was as good as a ground-bridge.

All he needed.

“Follow,” came a command, Shockwave's borrowed voice echoing over the hanger. It was a voice that even Chop Shop knew, making him cringe.

“They won't listen to you, Glowstrike, Saberhorn. They'd sooner kill me … I mean you … us,” he said defensively, nearly jumping out of his armor when he was suddenly handed an armful of hiccuping Fixit, the poor thing glitching and confused as frag. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled the minicon close, trying to calm him with his EM field as he patted the minicon's helm and held him against his chassis, right over his spark.

That was how you calmed young-sparks and given Soundwave's obvious possessive nature, he was definitely holding one of Soundwave's personal creations. _One_ of the many creations …. that had gone missing. Soundwave had had a dozen or so apparently at one point. They were what kept him alive in the gladiator pits and he had worn them like a second armor. They all had different skills as well, making him basically invulnerable. He had spies, interrogators, medics, roughhousers … mechanics.

Chop Shop stalled for a moment before petting Fixit's back.

Frag … He hoped Soundwave didn't find out about him basically bot-napping Fixit that one time.

The space-bridge suddenly roaring to life, powerful engine wasting energy for a merely land jump, Soundwave repeated himself, “Follow.”

Swallowing, not wanting to disobey one of Megatron's most powerful officers, Chop Shop followed. A klik later, stepping knee-deep into swamp water, the mech found himself staring at the nearly finished Alchemor. He was even going to continue his argument as to why this was a terrible idea, but he could only watch as Soundwave walked into the open hanger of the ship … screams of surprise following after.

Not a groon passed before Soundwave step back out the ship, signaling for Chop Shop to enter.

All but tripping inside, Chop Shop couldn't help but ask, “What happened? You didn't fight them all, did you?”

Soundwave merely motioned towards a nearby stasis chamber, Glowstrike frozen inside mid-yell, a recording of Knock Out playing, “Why Soundwave … you are always finding creative ways in using ground-bridges. Remind me not to piss you off.”

That recording was following by another recording, a drill sergeant, “You obey, you get to intake and a berth at night … if not, get the frag out of my outpost.”

Looking at the femme, seeing a small crowd of partially beaten and obviously submissive Cons gathering behind Soundwave, the ant-former smirked, “Well … what are we waiting for. Lets send some mechs to get the space-bridge and let's get the frag out of here. I don't care if we search for Megatron, make our own planet or just become space pirates, anything is better than Autobots … though I gotta ask. Why do we even need the ship? The space-bridge could have taken us anywhere.”

Visor staring at the thief, two of the thin mech's tentacles came forward and slowly took the minicon from his grasp. Chop Shop tried not to cringe at the feel of those cables, the smooth surface unnerving.

Placing the orange mech onto the floor, Soundwave's next question revealed all.

“Fixit,” came Frenzy's voice, followed by a different recording, “Which status pods? … Where did you hide … your brothers.”

Once again he felt his mouth move of its own accord and Fixit told Soundwave where the pods were kept … misfiled and forgotten by all but him. He had found them as promised.

 _'B_ _**ro** _ _TherS … I f_ _ oU _ _nd yo_ _**u** _ _.'_

Fixit … hated himself for his traitorous vocals and was almost glad when his mind could take no more of the struggle, sending him under.

…

“We have to go after him Optimus. We have to,” said Bumblebee, Denny finally getting the ground-bridge running so Prime and the away team could return to base. The ex-scout's heels were practically on fire at this point. Bumblebee wanted to go and find Fixit, save him even.

Watching the footage of Soundwave picking up Fixit, Optimus knew there was no mech to save.

Slowly, he shook his helm at Bumblebee's request.

The armor might be different, but Fixit had to be the one that got away. After all … the Autobots had taken many minicon's from Soundwave and his possessiveness showed. Honestly, it had been a push, Prowl's idea, to cripple the powerful third in command in such a way. They had plucked the minicons away from the spymaster one at a time, hiding the young-sparks from their creator. Not one bot knew where all of the minicons were in order to keep them a secret.

Well … except for maybe Prowl.

Nonetheless, it took countless vorns … but slowly they got him down to just Laserbeak and a small mechanic. The mechanic was never released for battle, which didn't allow any Autobot to grab him, but then one day … he was just gone.

No one really questioned it, the war in full swing, but now it made sense with where the little mech had gone. Soundwave had made him into a sleeper agent. He had changed the little mech's form into something common and forgettable, but the name hadn't changed.

Fixit was the name of Soundwave's little mechanic.

The one that got away.

Frag, why hadn't he seen it?

Standing up straight, already pained with having to say this, Optimus placed a hand on Bumblebee's shoulder. “Bumblebee … there is no mech to save. Fixit is home now. His creator finally called him back … he is, and always has been, one of Soundwave's minicons.”

Bee, doorwings drooping, could only feel betrayal … and regret.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave is bad ass, so bad ass. Anyway, someone asked for the other bots' point of view so this happened. I'll be adding another chapter or two now though. We need to get to Soundwave cuddling. :3


	6. Most Important Thing

No, no, no. He wasn't one. He wasn't. _He wasn't!_

Fixit sobbed and tried to ball up a bit more in the darkness, a little place he had planted himself in a cupboard in the clensing room. It was pathetic really, hiding like this, but where else was he to go? He couldn't escape. He had tried. More than once. He might have even been able to escape if Soundwave hadn't done ... _something_ … to him.

With a hard sob, he recalled how Soundwave had held him securely, like one holds a fitful new-spark trying to wiggle away. The communications officer had even shushed him with the hum of his engine and the warm expanse of his EM field. Fixit might have even calmed down if those terrifying tentacles hadn't curled out of nowhere a klik later and … and … then hacked into his system. The main jack in the back of his helm still ached. Soundwave had nearly ripped his programming apart while he looked for something, tugging down firewall after firewall while packs of data seemed to flood in from nowhere until Fixit was basically drowning in them. At one point, he couldn't take anymore and … passed out.

_'I m_ _**i** _ _Ssed yo_ _ u _ _LittLe o_ _ n _ _e.'_

He had come online with Soundwave curled around him, petting his helm, EM field full of sorrow.

_'I'm_ _**so** _ _RRy._ _ It' _ _s bEen too lOng.'_

He had hated the sorrow in that EM field, the silent mech's pain almost disorienting in its heaviness. He had hated it. He especially hated that he had caused if for some reason.

Frag, there he was again, showing empathy for the enemy. He wasn't a traitor! He was a Co... There was no way he was a … He couldn't be a … No, no. It was a virus. He never meant to betray the Autobots! He had always been an Autobot. _Always_.

He was a good Autobot.

_'You arE_ _**no** _ _t an Auto_ _ bo _ _T, FiXit.'_

Those words had hurt and ached and burned down into his deepest grips, especially now as a part of his mind pulled up _memories_. Unwanted memories. Memories he now had full access to that a Voice in the back of his mind insistently pointed at. He hated the Voice, the Voice that had came after Soundwave had hooked into his systems and told him what he was.

He hated it so it much! That _Voice_! It just wouldn't let him be! It wouldn't let him run away or escape or even try hiding for too long! He almost made it to the escape pods once, but then the _Voice_ sent out a distress ping from his own systems! And before he knew it one of his _bro_ \- … one of Soundwave's _creations_ was on top of him, nudging him with its muzzle, gently nipping at Fixit's tires as the cat-former directed him back to Soundwave's habitation suite.

H-he believed that one was named Ravage, which didn't make sense! There was no Ravage on the manifest! Nor any of the other m-minicons Soundwave had pulled from pods.

_'Recharge b-bro_ _**ther** _ _s … I-I'LL let you_ _ ou _ _t when it is saFe,' said Fixit, a hologram flickeRing to life and hid_ _**ing** _ _the_ _ visa _ _ge of a rEd and blue minIcon, curled_ _**aro** _ _und EAch other in a fRo_ _**zen** _ _slumber._

_He would let thEm out, but it was t_ _**oo d** _ _an_ _ ger _ _ous. ToO many optics on him … tooo many w_ _ aTc _ _hing rigHt now! He had to Wait for Soun_ _**D** _ _wave._

Fixit twitched and balled up tighter in his hiding place. He hated the memory, hated the voice, but most of all he hated himself for what he was. He was a … he was a Con! There, he admitted it. He was a filthy, filthy Decepticon! He was a terrible being! He should despise himself!

He sobbed louder this time, loathing himself and the V _oice_ that scoffed at his sorrow, calling the whole breakdown melodrama.

Unfortunately, this time, someone heard him, heard his weeping. Twin sets of peds soon were wandering into the cleansing station. He tried to silence his vents, tried to pull close his EM field, but it was already too late, the door to his hiding place opening and letting in the light while two sets of visors stared down at him.

_'Ru_ _ M _ _ble! FrenZ_ _**y! R** _ _un, rUn!'_

Frenzy's face immediately looked pained at the sight of Fixit's grief even though he quickly tried to cover it with a snarky smile. Rumble made no such effort. He merely sighed, the two looking at each other before they both reached in, coaxing him out. “Come on Fixit. No need to hide.”

“Yeah, like Soundwave told you, there's nothing to be scared of. No one is going to hurt you on this ship,” said Frenzy, finishing his twin's thoughts.

Fixit refused to look at them though, curling back into himself. He just wanted them to disappear … or for him to at least disappear, but fate was a cruel little cackling thing. For some reason, none of the other minicons, his _siblings_ , would allow him to wallow in his miseries for very long. He didn't know if he should be thankful or to hate them for it.

“Hey, hey, none of that. Come on, lets get you out of there,” said one of the twins, a strong set of arms slowly coaxing him out onto his new legs. He had peds now and Soundwave was the one to have given them to him. He had been remodeled … or returned apparently to his original design. He was no longer a batch model. He now had a custom form. Apparently, so he could have more movement and so he could be carried like any of the other minicons on Soundwave's form.

He hated these legs … mostly because he immediately felt at home with them and in his new armor. It was as if he had always been this way.

“Come on,” cooed Rumble, the far more comforting of the two twins, a gentle servo on his shoulder basically leading him forward. “We know it's hard … adapting. It is for all of us, but Soundwave said there was nothing that could be done for the damage. You were just hidden … too long. Your personality melded with your Autobot persona and deleting that would delete … um, you. Soundwave said your current personality will meld with your old memories though and you will slowly remember us and yourself. You might be a little different from the Fixit we knew, but you will still be him.”

“You were always a softy like an Autobot anyway … though I can't say I will miss your bitter grumpiness,” added Frenzy with false cheer.

Rumble elbowed his twin in turn for the comment, the two brothers bickering in almost a familiar way until Rumble returned his attentions back to Fixit.

“Come on. Now that you are out, Soundwave says its time to recharge. We need to reforge all of our bonds after all. We have all been separated for too long.”

Fixit wanted to shake his helm at that, deny the symbotic bond that was slowly reforming between him and Soundwave, but he couldn't. He couldn't even dig his peds into the floor. He almost followed gleefully … and he hated himself for it at first, clinging to that reforming bond. But he had … he had been alone for so long.

_'I am alOne.'_

All but carried on to the main room, Fixit managed to pull himself from an old memory that almost made cleaner gather in his optics. Instead, he concentrated on the chaos in the room.

Lazerbeak was chasing Buzzsaw who was chasing Ratbat through the air. Ratbat was squealing in laughter, Buzzsaw was enraged and Lazerbeak was just trying to break it up. Meanwhile, Ravage was hissing and thrashing his tail as he glared down at Howlback, the safety enforcer cat-former, just daring her to try and take his comfy lap from him. Howlback thus was on her haunches threatening to maul the other cat-former while Glit, the medic cat-former, tried to intervene by telling them to take turns for they were both being entirely unreasonable. Squaktalk, at the same time, seemed to be talking Beastbox to death if the ape-former's cringing was anything to go by and Slugfest … well, he still couldn't figure out how to get up onto the communal berth.

Yet, despite all the chaos and all the activity, Soundwave didn't seem concerned or even distracted. What he was distracted by was that Fixit … had come out of his hiding space of his own free will.

Well mostly. Rumble technically hadn't dragged him.

Long digits coming forward, Soundwave picked up Ravage by his middle and placed him down gently among the other cat-formers. Said mech pouted, but didn't complain as Soundwave came forward and silently knelt before the orange minicon, a hand instinctively coming forward as a wipe away the remnants of his latest bawling fit.

“ _Have you been crying again? You know you can always talk to me, new-spark_ ,” came a soft feminine recording, obviously a femme speaking to a new-spark

“O-of course I have!” barked Fixit, afraid and yet so-so angry as he pushed the thin fingers away. “I don't want to be here! I don't want to be-be-be-be-”

His anger was gone as quickly as it came, a sob forming in the back of his throat. No, no. He didn't want to say it out loud or it would be true. He didn't want to say it out loud.

Predictably, Soundwave knew exactly what to say, using a voice so soft and whispered … he didn't know if it was a recording or not, “ _One of my minicons_?”

The Voice reared its ugly head, angry and hurt. No, no! He would not allow Fixit, _them_ , to upset Soundwave. Never! Not in that way. And Fixit found he couldn't disagree. Soundwave was … Soundwave had ... despite being creepily silent, never been cruel to him. Not once. Not even when Fixit bit, cried, or yelled. He was seemingly forever patient. And no one had ever been that patient when it came to him. No one. And why should they be? He was just a glitched little thing.

He couldn't hate Soundwave.

“No,” immediately said the minicon, part of his mind telling him every minicon in the room was now watching the interaction, but he still couldn't stop the words from spilling out of him now that Soundwave had spoken directly to him. “I just … I-”

 _'Just say it,'_ came the Voice in his head, the Voice that sounded more and more like him even with its grumpiness.

“I … I … don't want to be a Decepticon! I'm an Autobot! I know I am. I know, I know, I know it! A-aaaaaaaaaaaa-nd,” his vocals glitched for a moment, “And I-I-I know I'm not and Autobot! I don't even know who or what I am. I'm t-t-terrified! And the voice in my bed-dread- _head_ keeps saying its me and to just let the memories be, but I don't want them, him, US! I just don't want to be scared anymore,” finally burst Fixit, unable to take his inner conflict a moment more, cleaner fluid now dripping down his face again.

Soundwave, in turn, did not seem surprised. He merely reached forward and ran a gentle hand down the orange mech's spinal column, his EM field drifting forward with nothing but warmth and acceptance. Said action only made the small mech cry harder, his EM field uncontrollable as he struggled to intake air. He immediately hated himself for being so weak. He just knew one of the other minis was going to mock him, laugh at him, hate him.

But no laughter ever came. Not even a snide whisper about him being broken or glitched. Instead, all his _siblings_ were silent, especially when Soundwave reached down and simply picked him up as if he was a new-spark, soft words echoing over the room, “ _Autobot … Decepticon … You are ours, the rest are just details_.”

The words were strangely comforting, haunting, yet he didn't feel they were untrue.

Slowly his sobs died away slightly, his venting slowing as his system started to slip. He hadn't realized how tired he was until now that he was being held. And Soundwave's spark, plucking at the reforming connection, wasn't dissuading him. If anything, it was now coaxing him into recharge. In fact, the large mech seemed to be reaching out to all its connection, mentally telling them to come.

The younger ones whined and pouted, stating they weren't tired, but they followed regardless … well except Slugfest who still couldn't figure out how to get on top the berth. Finally, everyone else situated and having stolen all the really good spots, a tentacle wrapped around the pouting animal-mech and dragged him onto the berth with the rest of the forming cuddle-pile. And Fixit was in the middle of all of it. A dozen sparks all pulling at his, plucking at his insecurities and his madness and his fears.

Nowhere else to go, Fixit gave in to their plucking and allowed his part of the bond open, his heavy nearly overcome with the feelings of them.

Sighing, part of him adoring all the attention, Fixit felt himself slip a little more towards unconsciousness. Maybe Soundwave was right. It didn't matter if he was an Autobot or Decepticon, he had someone that wanted him. He had a family. He was wanted.

Burrowing a little closer to his apparent host, he allowed himself to be okay with that.

It was nice not being alone anymore, shunned or labeled disposable. He had always … He had … He envied so many others for their units, groups, and families. Would it be so bad if he allowed himself to have one?

Finally slipping into recharge, even if he hated the Voice, he found that they both agreed on that one thing. They … _He_ … wasn't alone anymore. And perhaps that was the most important thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! Fluff, why you so hard to write?! Nonetheless, I finally get a little closure on the Soundwave episode and Fixit gets some long deserved love. Hope everyone enjoyed it. Now, I just have to decide what my next short story will be … hmmm. 
> 
> Too. Many. Fic. Ideas. To-Write folder, why you have so many things?!
> 
> Meh, I'll choose one. Till then, thanks for reading!


End file.
